


A Fool Such As I

by afeverxlongingstill



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cas/Jo, F/M, Jostiel - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-03-01
Updated: 2017-03-01
Packaged: 2018-09-27 18:20:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10038074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afeverxlongingstill/pseuds/afeverxlongingstill
Summary: Set after Abandon All Hope - Castiel experiences waning powers after the death of Ellen and Jo Harvelle. All he wants is a chance to say goodbye.





	1. A Small Miracle

SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA - SINGER AUTO SELF SERVICE SALVAGE YARD

“Death tolls have yet to be estimated, but state officials expect the loss of life and property to be staggering…” The television squawks in the background, competing for dominance with a crackling hearth. The room is otherwise silent, somber. The eldest of the group is the only one to move, depositing what was once a happy moment into the fire.

It is the only means they have of burying their friends and it’s the closest they can get to a hunter’s funeral pyre. There is a collective sigh as the flames curl and the photograph begins to burn - it wounds them all just the same. It starts slowly at first, heat rippling over the surface, making it look like the people pictured could melt and slide right off.

As far as he is concerned they are not the same foursome they were hours ago. Sam and Dean seem to be feeling the loss the hardest, grieving for yet another motherly figure. Bobby doesn’t look to be fairing well either. And Castiel? That was a difficult question to answer.

A handful of hours ago he had sat and drank with them, accepting the possibility that he would likely perish in the fight against Lucifer. The tables had certainly turned. Even with all of his prowess and wisdom he had never seen this coming. He’d never expected to see the end of the Harvelles.

“Well,” He’d said, “I think I’m starting to feel something.” As he watches Jo disappear into the fire he feels it - encompassing. Perhaps that was the problem, ultimately. As he retreats from the room, headed for the front door he thinks, horrified, that he IS starting to feel something.

The night is cold and unforgiving, here on Bobby Singer’s porch. But the chill feels good on his cheeks. He angles his head skyward, closing his eyes and focuses. He thinks about the Roadhouse and tequila and little black dresses and? Nothing. No rush of wind, no stretching of wings, just the same stock-still stance he had assumed previously.

A huff of frustration escapes before he tries again. Eyes closed, nails digging into his vessels palm he thinks about gold and sunflowers and how angry he is. He prays silently for a miracle that doesn’t come and when he has had enough of wishing he casts a furious gaze skyward.

“I’ve done everything-” His voice raises slightly, “I've REBELLED to put them first, to love them the most and-” He cuts himself off because he knows that the Father he is praying to is not listening. Despite his wrath he can feel his chin quiver with upset, “Just this one time,” He feels out of breath, “PLEASE.”

“DAMMIT!” He exclaims, falling to his ass on the top step. Raising an arm he presses his lips around the mouth of the beer he’s been holding on to. The taste is bitter and relentless. Pulling the bottle back he watches a bead of condensation, digging a thumbnail into the label. “I don’t understand,” He is quiet and defeated, “What do you want from me?”

Castiel feels as if he could cry as the earth shifts and his wings unfurl. The trip only takes an instant but he relishes the feel of galaxies sifting through his fingers, the stink of ozone is comforting - it reminds him of home. When gravity finds him again he stumbles to his knees with the gentle ebb of his grace. He knows it will be some time before he will be able to return to his charge.

HEAVEN - LOCATION UNKNOWN

He is in a field and the sun is warm on his skin. A house lingers in the distance behind a neat row of well kept sunflowers. The grass is knee high and it takes him some time to make his way through the golden waves of vegetation, beer bottle carrying a hollow tune as the budding sprigs of hay caress the glass. Songbirds chatter in the distance, a dragonfly zipping past his nose and he feels peace - warm, resplendent.

Sunflowers bob in the breeze as he approaches, their giant heads dipping and dancing, playing host to a number of hungry goldfinches. The birds seem unfazed by him as he passes by silently and he finds himself smiling, glad to be in this little corner of Heaven. He can hear a screen door jitter against its frame in the wind as he rounds the porch.

Pausing at the bottom of the steps he takes a moment to survey the exterior of the home. It is unweathered, despite its age and it seems welcoming. He almost wonders if he were to walk around the side of the home, if he would find a pie cooling on a windowsill. It looks like it’s come straight from a countryside painting and he can’t imagine a better place to find her.

Curious blue eyes peer into what little he is afforded by the screen door. A set of stairs going up and a hallway leading further into the home. He isn’t sure why he feels nervous but he is certain that is the emotion keeping him rooted currently. Lifting the bottle to his lips again he takes a short sip, needing the bitter flavor to put him into motion.

Taking the steps by two he pulls the screen door open, wincing at the squealing of hinges and presses inside. Jimmy’s loafers are loud on the hardwood and he can feel the man recoil within at the sound. He looks down the hallway, unsure of where to go as a shadow passes over him from above on the landing. Eyes shift from the open hallway to the top of the stairs and he breathes deep, suddenly breathless.

“Took ya’ long enough!”

She is uninjured and radiant, “Jo.” He’s not sure why but it feels good to speak her name aloud again.

Moving down the stairs she tries to look past him, “Where, um-” She cuts herself off, looking deflated as she realizes he is the only one here.

“I’m sorry,” He knows he doesn’t have to explain, that Jo is a smart girl, but he does anyways, wanting to fill the silence, “But I am not here to save you.” He is surprised to find that those words physically hurt, like a blow to the gut.

Jo draws her lower lip in, biting at it to regain some control over herself. “It’s okay,” She tries, “Shoulda’ known better. Only Winchesters escape death.”

“Jo-”

“What? I’m allowed to be bitter about dying!”

He supposes she is right and by way of agreement he raises the half empty beer bottle in offering. To his surprise she laughs and takes it, nearly draining it. Silence hangs between them, “I wish I could take you back with me.” He neglects to mention the bit about not being sure if he could sustain his own travel back.

“How’s my Mom?” Her voice is small and abrupt, as if it took a great deal of effort to spit out.

“She isn’t here?”

Jo presses the cool glass to her cheek and shakes her head in the negative, words temporarily failing.

His eyes narrow in confusion but he doesn’t want to worry her, “Some people take longer to transition.” Normally he doesn’t see the point in lying but he tries, “I’m sure she’ll be here soon” The truth of the matter was it would be some time before Ash found Ellen or Jo. Since he wasn’t capable of transport currently, Ash was their only hope. The boy was smart, he would make it happen.

If Jo catches his lie she doesn’t let on, “There’s more beer in the fridge?”


	2. Night Moves

HEAVEN - LOCATION UNKNOWN

The kitchen tabletop is littered with empty brown bottles, the occupants of the room silent as if waiting for something. The stillness of the room is almost unnerving and it blankets them both, heavy and graceless. An intrepid cricket breaks the silence and Castiel grins as Jo jumps, startled. He releases a grunt of a laugh, peeling away the label of a mostly empty beer.

“Feel anything yet?” She ventures, tipping back a hefty swallow.

Brows knit together as he thinks, abandoning the bottle to cross his arms over his chest. He can feel his trench coat bunch together and knows he must look ridiculous. “Yes,” His expression shifts from contemplative to worried, fixing her with a serious stare, “Tired.”

Jo snorts, covering her mouth with her palm and laughing. Her head swims, fuzzy around the edges, so she doesn’t put much thought into his admission. “You know what normal people do when they’re tired Cas?”

His face falls, “I do understand the concept of sleep.” He frowns, “I’ve just never-” He cuts himself off with a sigh, “The idea is frightening to me.”

Jo raises a brow at him, leaning on the tabletop. “Why?” Even mostly intoxicated she can fathom a guess, but she doesn’t want to assume anything.

Azure gaze falls to the table and he shrugs feeling foolish. “In all of my years I have never found reason to shut down for that long.” Jo seems taken aback, as if he’s said something profound and he watches as she rises from her seat, moving to the cabinet.

“I think that calls for something a little stronger.” Gripping tight the waxy bottle neck she returns to the table, grabbing a pair of shot glasses on the way. She turns the bottle of Makers Mark up expertly, filling the glasses with practiced ease. “Team no sleep?” 

Castiel grips the shot as she passes it, forcing an awkward smile. “Team no sleep,” He affirms before tossing the shot back in one acerbic mouthful. He doesn’t wince, merely wipes his mouth with the sleeve of his coat.   
—–  
Despite feeling drained he is only mildly intoxicated. So when Jo nearly slides off of her chair he offers to help her to bed. Time works differently here but it is dark outside, moonlight flooding into the foyer over the second floor landing making it easier to navigate. Jo rests her head on his arm as they round the corner, humming a tune he recognizes from riding in the impala. 

“Team no stairs?” He asks, embracing humor.

Jo snorts and nods, “Definitely team no stairs.” Normally she didn’t drink to excess like this, but, she figured, dying was a damn good reason. And, she reasoned internally, Castiel was good, safe company.

In a fluid, sweeping motion he gathers her in his arms headed for the stairs. She is still humming and half singing, little puffs of air and half spoken words tickling the nape of his neck. He swallows hard, unaware something so simple could be so unhinging and has to loosen his grip slightly to divert airflow.

As he crosses the landing he winces into the moonlight, surprised at its brightness and he thinks he can make out some of the words she’s singing. “We were gettin’ our share,” Her thumb taps a beat at his collar, “Workin’ on our night moves…” She diverts to half humming again and he decides that he definitely recognizes the song. 

The beginnings of a storm drift in, rain gently chiming against glass window panes and he breathes deep the scent of summer precipitation. It is light in contrast to the final dying notes of the cricket symphony beyond the walls of the home. “Which way?”

“We felt the lighting,” Her voice isn’t bad but she is slurring slightly, pointing in the direction of the bedroom. “And we waited on the thunder,” It’s almost a declaration as they cross the threshold of the bedroom, a rumble of thunder vying for audible dominance.

Castiel is careful placing her on the bed - after today she seems infinitely more delicate. As if he moved or breathed in the wrong way she would disintegrate. A more troubling thought takes over though as he realizes he is hot. Temperature wasn’t normally something that would phase him in the slightest. In fact, normally, vessels ran cold due to the halting of metabolic processes.

Jo stretches across the quilt, opening her eyes for the first time in a while. “Thank you.” The room is dark and she only catches glimpses of the angel as lightning flashes, thunder rumbling in the distance. She isn’t certain in a way that she’d put money on, but she’s pretty positive that she can occasionally make out a shadowy outline of wings within the occasional glister of lightning

Although he is tired he bends the will of this universe, turning the bedside light on with a gentle snap of his fingers, nodding in response to her. He spies a slatted wooden chair and removes his trench coat, suit jacket following into a rumpled pile that he deposits on the chair. Turning back to face the rooms only other occupant he shoves his hands into his pants pocket, looking out of place.

“Hey,” Jo slides back on the bed, “Come here.” She pats the spot she had recently vacated for emphasis, rolling her eyes as the angel swallows nervously. “I won’t bite.” He seems to be debating, “Scouts honor!”

She is holding out her pinky in his direction and, for whatever reason, he looks over his shoulder as if there is someone else there that she could possibly be gesturing to. “I d-” He adjusts over an errant nerve, moving across the room to the bedside, “I don’t understand what that honor implies.”

Jo wags her pinky at him for emphasis, making a face. “It’s a pinky promise,” She begins as he hedges the edge of the bed, “It’s like a vow between two people,” She shrugs, “A promise that can’t be broken, that sorta’ stuff.”

Castiel eases himself onto the mattress trying not disturb her, laying on his back and feeling completely awkward. He’s pretty certain he shouldn’t be wearing his loafers still but he hadn’t put much thought to it until now. And, he thinks, I’ve never taken them off before. He tests resting his hands on his chest for a moment before reaching out with his pinky as well.

“See?” She wraps her pinky around his, “Now you do the same.”

It takes him a second to process, fixing on the sensation of touch - it’s the first time the feeling has been this strong and intense. Normally he was muted to everything. Castiel mimics her, his finger much larger and nearly swallowing hers. He’s not sure why but it makes him smile. 

“Night moves,” He says, remembering the name of the song much too late. Almost as an afterthought he adds, “It’s a good song.”

Jo raises a brow, thrown off by him at first and lets her hand fall to the mattress, dragging his with it. She nods, surprised their fingers are still wrapped up together. But, she realizes, he probably doesn’t know any better. “Yeah Cas, it is.” 

Jo releases the grip on his finger and he finds himself squeezing back gently, “Team waiting on the thunder?” He grunts with laughter, remembering for the first time in months that he had once been the funniest angel in the garrison.

She laughs as well, closing her eyes. “Yeah,” She hums a stunted laugh, “I guess we are.” Her voice is tired and, for once, Castiel understands the feeling.

Many times he has received the personal space and privacy talk from Dean but he watches her as she drifts. Sleep seems to come in waves, her digits twitching involuntarily as her breathing began to even and it was a marvel to him. Her smile loosened, slackening into a half grin as he turns to his side, free hand adjusting his pillow. 

It is some time before he closes his eyes, a deep crease in his brow as he uses precious grace to turn the light off again, plunging the room into darkness.   
—–  
SIOUX FALLS, SOUTH DAKOTA - SINGER AUTO SELF SERVICE SALVAGE YARD 

“Cas?!” Dean’s aggravated voice is the first thing he hears when he comes to.

It’s cold and he struggles to breathe, sprawled on the gravel of Bobbys driveway. “What-?” He manages before coughing, shivering.

“It’s okay Cas, don’t talk,” Sam hovers nearby, “Just take it easy.”

“Get him up son! That gravel ain’t worm ya’ damn id'jit!”

Castiel almost laughs at the predictability of it all as he is hauled to his feet, “What happened?” He knows what he remembers but he needs to know things from their perspective. Hands press down the length of Jimmy’s dress shirt, realizing his duster and suit jacket must have gotten left behind at - wherever he had been.

Dean swallows down barely noticeable worry, trying to sound put off instead, “Not long after you came out here to brood we heard you hit the deck,” He says in reference to the porch, shrugging. 

“And out came the cavalry.” Bobby says, speaking over Dean and fixing him with a look.

Sam is the unexpected, defiant one, “You were having some kind of seizure.” He withers slightly under a hot gaze from Bobby, shrugging with an innocent hand gesture.

Something tickles his upper lip and he reaches up, scratching. “STRANGE.” Pulling his hand back he spots blood and jumps, caught off guard by the handkerchief Bobby thrusts into his hands. “Thank you.”

Dean shifts as his phone rings and Castiel is horrified at his choice of ringtone, recoiling at the chirping phone. ’Workin’ on our night moves, tryin’ to make some front page driv-’ Dean answers before it can continue, walking away up the driveway, out of earshot. 

A breeze blows, stinking of rain and lightning. “Just waiting on the thunder,” Castiel says quietly, useless.


End file.
